


Ansible

by orphan_account



Series: Entangled [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 2x20 fix-it, 2x20 spoilers?, M/M, i don't write fanfiction ever, kink meme prompt, so sorry if it's terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver talks Slade out of making him choose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ansible

Everything was confused. Everything hurt. His knee, his head, his side. The past and the present blurred and for a time he didn’t know where he was. Why he was there. Slade was there. So was Shado. And his mother and sister?

“ _Oliver_ ,” his mom cried, an edge of desperation in her voice.

He blinked, and blinked again, and the beams of the headlights highlighting his family came into focus. So did the feel of the leaves pressing against the side of his face.

Slade stepped from behind his mother. “I was dead the last time you were offered this choice.”

“Slade,” Oliver managed to bite out. His head was still ringing, his mother and sister’s crying fading in and out of his awareness. Even though his head was fuzzy, he saw right away where this was going. Slade was going to make him choose between his mom or Thea.

It was an impossible choice.

“What’s happening?” Thea sobbed.

Oliver’s hands were tied behind his back, in such a way that he couldn’t slip the bindings. With a struggle he forced his battered body into an upright position on the forest floor, ignoring the twinge of pain in his ribs, the spinning in his head, the ache in his knee.

“I often wonder how you looked,” Slade said, crouching down in front of Oliver to look him in the eye. “When he pointed the gun at Shado. And took her from me.”

Oliver felt burning rage welling up in his chest, spreading into his neck and jaw, making his _teeth_ hurt. It was mixed with a nagging pain, a hollowness, at her memory. “You psychopath,” he spat. “Shado _wasn’t_ yours.”

Slade leant in close, his face furious. “No, she was _yours_ ,” he snarled.

 _Not true!_ Oliver’s mind said. _Shado made her own decisions. She was her own person._

“Until you chose another woman over her,” Slade continued.

Oliver couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice as he cried: “That’s _not_ what happened!”

“It is what happened,” Slade roared, lurching to his feet to stand over Oliver. “It is! _She_ told me.” He motioned wildly into the darkness.

Oliver looked, but he couldn’t see anyone there.

“What do you _mean_ , she?” he began. “There’s nobody there…”

It was at that moment that Oliver realised just how badly damaged Slade Wilson really was. He was hallucinating Shado – still. Hallucinating a Shado who was twisted and cruel. Directing his actions? If that was the case then there really was going to be no reasoning with him – he was completely demented.

“Slade,” Moira said, coming to a sudden realisation of her own. “You were on the island. With Oliver.”

She and Thea both turned their gazes to Ollie, and he almost had to look away. Their expressions were so confused, but at the same time so accusing. Particularly Thea’s. Another lie exposed. It hurt.

“I thought I had known true despair, until I had met your son,” Slade said, speaking to Moira. “I trusted him to make the right choice.”

“Let me make the right choice now,” Oliver said, looking up into Slade’s face, his expression begging. “Kill me.”

_Let my mother and sister go. It’s me you want. It was always me. Please, not them. They don’t deserve this. I do. I wasn’t strong enough last time. And I’m sorry._

Moira and Thea both objected immediately.

“Choose me, _please_ ,” Oliver cried.

“I am killing you Oliver,” Slade said as he slipped a hand into his black coat and pulled out a handgun. “Only more slowly than you would like.”

_No!_

He knew reasoning with Slade was futile, but he had to try. He had to.

“Choose,” Slade growled, pointing the gun first at Moira.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut and bit out the words: “Shado wouldn’t want this! It’s not right.”

It was a gamble and he knew it. Getting Slade too angry might just make the man kill them all in a fit of Mirakuru-induced rage, but there was nothing else he could do.

“Don’t you tell me what Shado would and wouldn’t want!” Slade roared, stepping between the two women, who were crying and cowering to stand in front of Oliver and stare down at him. “ _She told me!_ ”

“Shado died, Slade,” Oliver said. “She _died_. How can she have told you?”

“Because she’s here,” Slade snarled.

Oliver shook his head. “No she isn’t. Whoever – whatever that is, it’s a figment of your imagination.”

Slade backhanded him across the face with his free hand and he crashed into the leaves several feet away, the world reeling around him like he’d had one bottle too many of tequila.

“Ollie!” Thea cried.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to me about her like that, kid!” Slade growled, stalking over to stand over him.

That shiny chrome handgun was now pointing at him, and at neither Moira or Thea. Oliver counted that as a minor victory. Far better he die than either of them. He spat out a mouthful of blood that had trickled down the back of his throat from his bleeding nose.

He was too dizzy to even try to sit back up again.

“Shado might have been a warrior, far more of one than I ever was,” Oliver said, rolling onto his back so he wouldn’t get leaves in his mouth as he spoke. “But she was gentle and kind. You _know_ she was. That’s why – that’s what we liked so much about her. She wouldn’t want you to do this!”

“That’s not true!” Slade snarled, but there was less conviction in his voice now, confusion in his face as he glanced off to the side, at that space between the trees where there was no one.

“She _wouldn’t_ ,” Oliver insisted.

But Slade was listening to someone else. Something else. The gaze of his one eye fixed on that spot in the trees.

Oliver needed to distract him.

“Slade,” he said, quickly, as loudly as he could with his ribs screaming at him. “Slade!” Slade glanced at him. “Slade, I – I never said – it was my fault because I wasn’t strong enough and I’m sorry. Okay. I’m _sorry_.”

Slade didn’t say anything, but he was staring at Oliver now, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I wanted him to kill _me_ , not her. Slade, kill me. Please. _Me_.”

Behind them both, Moira had climbed to her feet. “No,” she said. Slade spun around to face her.

“Mom?” Oliver said. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“There’s only one way this night can end,” Moira sobbed. “We both know that, don’t we, Mr. Wilson?”

Slade had a pensive expression on his face.

Oliver understood what she meant to do, then, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her sacrificing herself for him. Not after his father had too. He wasn’t worth it. “Mom,” he whimpered. “Mom, please don’t.”

“Both my children will live,” she said, raising her chin defiantly, even as Thea realised what was happening and cried out for her. Slade turned his head to stare at her, and Oliver couldn’t see his face anymore, couldn’t read his expressions, didn’t know what he was going to do.

“What are you doing?” Thea wailed. “ _Mom_?”

Oliver tried the bindings again, but he couldn’t slip them. Slade had been thorough when he tied them.

“Thea,” Moira said. “I love you.” Slade stepped towards her, raising the handgun. “Close your eyes, baby.”

Thea sobbed.

“Slade, please,” Oliver said. He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t not. He had to _do_ something. “Don’t do this. They don’t deserve it. _I_ do, but they don’t.”

Slade ignored him, focusing on his mother instead. “You possess true courage,” he breathed, slipping the gun back into his coat. “I’m truly sorry you did not pass that on to your son.”

Then he pulled his sword from its sheath. Oliver’s heart leapt into his throat – but Slade grabbed Moira by the shoulder and spun her around to cut the zip-tie binding her. Moira stood there, panting for breath, as Slade stepped up to Thea. A second later, the zip-tie holding her had been cut as well. Slade regarded the two women, his expression impassive. “Get out of here. The road is that way.”

“Not without my son,” Moira objected, boldly widening her stance.

“Mom, forget about me, just go!” Oliver yelled at her.

She hesitated.

“ _Go!_ ”

She fled with Thea.

Slade strode over to Oliver again to stare down at him with his one dark eye. That eye-patch was so accusatory – Oliver had a hard time looking at it, so he averted his gaze, staring at the tree branches overhead instead, and between them the distant stars.

Those same stars he had looked at so many times while he was on the island, as he longed for home.

“You are weak,” Slade spat, walking around him, the sword still in his hand. “And pathetic. Because of you, Shado is _dead_.”

Oliver’s eyes prickled. “I know,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, all of the urgency gone now. “I know. It’s my fault. _Mine_. Punish me, not them. They don’t – they don’t deserve it. They’re innocent.”

“Shado was innocent,” Slade pointed out, his tone angry.

Oliver bit back a breathless laugh, then choked on the blood still running down the back of his throat from his nose. “You know what they say. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

Slade growled wordlessly, and Oliver figured that perhaps that had been tactless, but then, he’d never really been known for his tact anyway.

“Are you going to kill me already?” he asked.

Oliver was ready.

There was a pause. Slade stopped walking, leaving the clearing silent except for the quiet pinging of the car’s engine as it cooled down. “No,” Slade decided, eventually.

Oliver blinked and turned his head to look at him. “What?”

_What if he’s thinking of doing something even worse, to somebody else? Oh, God, Sara. He’s going to do something to Sara._

Slade knelt down in the leaves beside him and cut the ropes binding him. Oliver struggled into a sitting position, half ready to fight, even though he knew he would be useless right about now. Slade simply regarded him silently, scowling deeply.

Nothing happened.

Oliver looked at the sword. He didn’t dare break the silence.

Eventually, Slade did, getting back to his feet. “You said I wasn’t alone.” He was looking away into the trees as he said it, and his voice was gruff.

Ollie froze. When did he say that? Not any time recently. Then he remembered. On the island, after Ivo killed Shado, he’d told Slade he wasn’t alone, he would never be alone dealing with the Mirakuru.

Very, very carefully, he said: “You aren’t, not if you don’t want to be.”

Slade grunted, thoughtfully. Then he sheathed his sword and held out a hand to help Oliver to his feet. Oliver hesitated, looking up into Slade’s eye, searching for murderous intent, but Slade’s expression had turned to one of melancholy. He took Slade’s hand, and Slade pulled him to his feet, effortlessly. For a couple of moments Slade supported him as he found his balance, because he was still dizzy and his bad leg didn’t want to take his weight.

He stood there awkwardly, wondering what to say or do. Slade was regarding him seriously, sadly, and Oliver didn’t know how to respond. He knew how to react to an insane, furious Slade, certainly, and once upon a time, a long time ago, there had been a period in his life where he had known how to deal with a man prone to moments of playfulness and affection – but only when they were at the fuselage and they were absolutely certain they were safe.

Now, though?

He didn’t know what to do.

Slade reached out, suddenly, and Oliver flinched.

Slade growled. “Stay _still_.”

So Ollie did. And Slade traced his jaw, surprisingly gently given his immense strength, with his calloused thumb. It was a touch reminiscent of their time on the island, from before Shado, when it was just the two of them and they were lonely. He took Oliver by the chin and tilted his head into the light of the car’s headlights, so he could see the wound on his head.

“You won’t die,” Slade decided. He tilted his head, as if listening for something. “Get out of here, kid.”

And just like that, he let go of Ollie’s chin and climbed into his car, peeling away into the darkness. A minute later, Oliver heard what Slade must have – sirens.

He started limping towards the road, where he re-joined his mother and sister in time to be whisked off to his least favourite place. Hospital.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was a Kink Meme prompt. And, I've never actually written fanfiction before in my life because it makes me feel like I'm playing in the wrong sandbox. So, sorry if everyone is majorly OOC or whatever. That is all.


End file.
